Des Vrais Mensonges - Beautiful Lies
by Balletomane0606
Summary: Percy, a handyman, sends an anonymous love letter to his boss Annabeth. After initially throwing it away, she forwards it to her separated aunt to cheer her up. Mistakes, misunderstandings and marriage (or absence of). Rated T for topics discussed and swearing. Based off French film Des Vrais Mensonges. AU. Percabeth.
1. Chapter 1 - Unconditionally

_**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus characters all are owned by the one Rick Riordan. Plot outline based on the French film Des Vrais Mensonges. The **__**chapter name belongs to the respective artist(s), in this case Katy Perry.**_

Percy, a handyman, sends an anonymous love letter to his boss Annabeth. After initially throwing it away, she forwards it to her separated aunt to cheer her up. Mistakes, misunderstandings and marriage (or absence of). Rated T for topics discussed and swearing. Based off French film Des Vrais Mensonges. AU.

__**Chapter 1 – Unconditionally**

_Annabeth_

Letters are a frisky thing, something that can go hardly right or hardly wrong. You can't hide behind acronyms or typos, and there simply is no place for them nowadays, where CTRL+Z takes precedence. So after I look at the sloppily placed stamp that looked like it had been completely slobberified, I open the envelope. It's white, and plain, and hard to track down. The return address is to mine, oddly enough – in a handwriting that sloped up and down, almost if the sender had dyslexia or dysgraphia. The letter is a confession of love.

I can't profess that I know much about these or how to react, but this isn't a movie. I know that well enough - and if there were cameras I would have slapped them away.

I'm a good target, so I fold the paper with signs of a heartsick person into an airplane and aim for the bin. There is no real reason for me to tell you whether I did get it into the bin or not, but as it was an anomaly, I shall.

It failed.

Percy waddles in with his head full of gunk and debris in place of his brain.

So.

He attempts to make conversation, but this is not Horrible Bosses. So I shut him up with a lengthy glare – this one takes a while to register anything – and he continues cleaning. There is a pause as he approaches the bin, where my paper plane still lies in an accusing manner.

It seems to be telling me that yes, the letter did disconcert me.

I wave it off before I realise I'm doing it in real life, and Percy (who had been watching me like a hawk this whole time) looks at me even more oddly.

Hmm.

So he gingerly touches it, but my sharp voice commands him to drop it. He does so in shock, but his familiarity to the letter only created suspicion. He knew where it started and ended, even when folded up – I begin to see him as an abettor. However, all I do reveal is that I want him to bring it here – to me. He picks it up, seeming apprehensive at the notion and looking very much like he wants to drop it into the bin.

That boy needs closure.

I tap my desk and then turn away (not like I made any eye contact).

I start to speak.

_Omniscience_

"What are you doing this weekend."

Although phrased like a question, it was a command. One with, as they say, ulterior motives.

Percy pauses then mumbles something about seeing his parents and old school friends back in his hometown. Annabeth processes this then remembers his resume – how he lived in suburban New York and had come to San Francisco because of a girlfriend or something ridiculous like that. When they inevitably broke up, he stayed for the prospects and found a job as an all-round handyman at the Athena Architectural Company, referred by his former friend Luke.

Annabeth shows only the slightest bit of professional regret desired for a manipulating situation like this.

Percy seems to notice _this._

"I…was wondering whether we could possibly…go out for coffee."

Percy's eyes widen and he seems to eat the air, searching to take back his words.

"Or hot chocolate. You know, depending,"

He doesn't take into account the subtle jab at his immaturity and smiles like the adoring, heartsick puppy he is.

"No, I'm like… free. Those were just hypothetical. They wouldn't have worked with the money right now…"

"Using big words, I see. Well, we'll see what we can do about the pay rise. So, coming?"

"…UhIguessifitisn'tanytrouble…"

"I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Now, keep cleaning."

_Percy_

"As you know, there has been a particular problem with… love in my world recently."

Yes, I did know.

"So I was wondering whether you could… help me out."

Yes, I could.

"I have an aunt."

Huh?

"She's only ever loved one man, unconditionally. And he left her."

If Grover was here, he would make sense of it. Tell him that it really was herself she was talking about, not some aunt.

"She's spiralled into depression. She still thinks that he loves her. But he doesn't. What's the most obsessive thing you would do it you were in this… unrequited situation?"

Write a letter to your boss and give it to her anonymously I think, but I don't say anything.

"Well," says the lady running the conversation, "clearly setting a place for him at dinner every day is not at all concerning. You see what I'm getting at?"

No, I thought. I start to drive slower as majority of my brain cells are preoccupied with listening and trying to park near Starbucks.

"We're here. Oh, and by the way, do you remember the letter you put on my desk?"

Of course.

"I forwarded it to my aunt in hopes of cheering her up. I'll be seeing her on Wednesday, so I'll gauge the effects then. Meanwhile, I'd like a Gra-"

She was cut off by my words. After all, I was raised properly and do have to order her food every day, being her all-around 'assistant'.

"Fair Trade Certified™ Pike Place® Roast for the lady." I tried to sound smooth.

"_Actually._ Actually, I'd like a Gingerbread Latte. It is the time of season."

I do my goldfish impersonation. She said she was impressed by it.

"Let me close that for you. And yes, A-N-N-A-B-E-T-H. One word."

There is a less than awkward silence as we wait for my hot chocolate and her Christmas thingy. She did tell me once it's only ever awkward when you point it out.

I get my hot chocolate and her Latte.

"Why is it that no matter how many packets of sugar I add, the hot chocolate still tastes the same?"

She nudges me to a window seat and rolls her eyes.

"I _deplore_ it when they get my name wrong."

I know better than to suggest the importance of a name on a paper cup in her life. Instead:

"Really? You never get a Gingerbread Latte! It's like… once in a blue moon."

She snorts and stirs the latte.

"Yes, that is the saying. But scientifically, unless you're in special atmospheric conditions or near a volcano, blue has nothing to do with it."

"Blue has to do with _everything._ Like, blue Coke. And cookies."

_Annabeth_

This peaks my interest, albeit for a short while. I learn that his mother and he (and his baby brother Tyson) likes blue, as it was a small rebellion against their ex-stepfather that she married for the sake of Percy's education. Not that said endeavour came to much, considering his current mental status, but it was one baby step for the poor Perseus.

I phrase my sentence carefully.

"I got a Latte because if your life had been tipped upside down, you might as well go the whole way. It's all or nothing; go big or go home. In most cases, at least."

He seems proud of his minor, _minor_ influence over the fact that he managed to get me to have my life revolve around something other than my own, attempting-to-be-perfect life. This time, it was revolved around my aunt's life. Which, for the record, was far from perfect.

"I need you to meet her. And take her out on a dinner, and be nice. Clean up and have a good time."

"No."

"I'll pay for the dinner."

I knew he needed the money.

"I'll pay you, too."

My phone vibrates (it is _always _on silent) and I read a text. It was from a slightly concerned brother and fellow shareholder partner/co-owner of Athena Architectural Company – Malcolm, who was now about to ring the police.

The building had been broken into.

_**A/N: I hope you didn't find them too OOC. Has anyone else watched the film? Thanks for reading and hope you have a great day (Gods, I sound like a shop lady). Reviews/favourites/follows?**_


	2. Chapter 2 - The Fighter

**Chapter 2 – The Fighter**

_Percy_

As I not-so-casually peel into the spot clearly marked Equity Partner, my reflexes kick in as I grab the Christmas wrapping paper stick that had been stewing in the front seat and practice a bit of Surma stickfighting, almost dislodging the makeshift weapon from Idiot #1. Throwing a few punches after reminiscing my days as an amateur wrestler for a couple seconds (ADHD, alright?), I then did some bare-knuckle boxing to Idiot #2, and onto the tarmac he went. After successfully using some jujitsu and karate, Idiots #1 and 2 were down. Handed over to the police, they got rid of #3, 4 and 5 through some far less impressive or showy but more efficient moves.

Annabeth walks over, more than a bit shocked at the display.

My smile must be rounder than her curls as she congratulates me.

"Idiots #1 and 2 extracted from the building by yours truly, Perseus Jackson" I said, mock-bowing.

She smiled coyly.

"He isn't Idiot #1. He's Idiot #2 and so forth."

"Who's Idiot #1 then?"

"You – but you're _my_ Idiot #1."

Her face suddenly freezes in this unexpected position of a smile (gasp, I know right) and then demands quietly but coldly to see me in her office.

I try not to see the insult as a personal one but more to my kind and affable nature.

Affable. Perhaps she'll be impressed by that.

_Annabeth_

"So. Let me get this straight. You're trained in stick licking." I could almost taste the anger dripping off my lips, ruining the taste of my rose lip balm.

"That's when they burn sticks t… no, stickfighting."

Under his breath, you can hear him mumbling.

"I don't want to seem like a smart aleck (not like that would ever happen)." No, it wouldn't.

"And you trained at the ARROW Academy?" Calm, I think. Relax. You aren't outraged at all. Try to get the better of him. Find loopholes.

"Actually, with the SPEAR System."

"You dealt with _spears._" My voice went into almost hysteria.

"No, it's an acronym for _Spontaneous Protection Enabling Accelerated Response. _Like, reflexes and stuff… Used by the British Police and stuff. Like, and stuff."

"And yet this is not on your resume." I didn't know why I felt so affronted and violated. Like he had betrayed me and was secretly going to turn out as a part of Mensa. Superior to me.

No, Annabeth, I tell myself, that would _never_ happen. Pigs might croak and frogs may fly but Percy in Mensa…

"I felt like it wasn't what you were looking for. In your job description. So… yeah. I left it out. And there wasn't really a tick box for 'are you trained in self-defense' or anything."

"Anything else you would like to keep from me."

"Um. I fence. And do some Wing Chun. And was involved in the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program."

"_You_ were in the military." It was part insult, part question.

"Yeah… I was at first interested in Marine Biology but after I had finished the degree and jobs fell through, I came here with Calypso then signed up. I was with them for a while then…"

"You fence. The two styles?" Method number 2 - cut him off and go back to the parts he seems unsure of.

"There are three actually… Foil, sabre and épée." He winced, and rightly so.

Named after kitchen utensils and Star Wars with a bit of French chucked in there. Whoop-dee-da.

"So, Percy. Why did you pick this job? A job catered more to an uneducated, destitute fellow with no prospects."

"I thought it would be a break… A good time to relax. Something less stressful and less carry-the-world."

"You're…you're…you're….You're responsible for the health and safety of my clients. For the business. For the greater good of the community. You are important. And if you deem this job unimportant, a _break_, I'm not sure you're right for the job. Not anymore."

(I am a hypocrite so you can all shut up now.)

I stutter, for perhaps the first time in my career.

"You can leave the room now."

It isn't a command or an order, it's a plea.

_Omniscience_

Annabeth is stunned. She doesn't know that Perseus would do anything for her, nor that he had been suffering PTSD after the military. She doesn't know he was in a broken family, or in a broken relationship. She doesn't know that he would do anything to get a rise out of her. To finally see him _that_ way. _Anything._

Percy is stunned. He doesn't know that Annabeth would fire him out of selfish desire to protect her heart, nor use him to fix her own broken family. He doesn't know that she's in an abusive relationship. He doesn't know that she is now paranoid and deathly scared of him because of his ability to fight.

Scared.

That's a luxury that both he and she don't have.

Priorities come first.

_Flashback_

"Like Oh Em Gee, Percy, it only took you like, 3 hours to go to the like, dry cleaners and back. _It's the apocalypse._"

"Well, I guess I won't give you your present then."

Curiosity was at the pinnacle of Annabeth's life but pride took precedence.

"Priorities come first, Perseus."

"As is defined by the word," he mumbled.

"For that, you're giving me the present."

She had ears like a hawk.

He made a face and then noted although he was thick, that she had eyes like a hawk too.

But he wasn't sure who the mouse was.

_Percy_

Hiding in windowpanes isn't really a particular skill of mine that comes to use very often, but apparently Fate decided today would be that sorta day.

Wasn't complaining.

I was eternally grateful for Malcolm for hiring me, as I'm almost 199% sure that Annabeth wouldn't have hired me if she was the one interviewing me. Actually, make that 352%.

Due to this decision alone I could tell that Malcolm and Annabeth, although similar, had very different views on things (like on whether to hire stupid college dropouts that got dishonourably discharged from the military and stuff). And including themselves, and the company.

"We are equity partners, Annabeth. Do you know what that means?

We are siblings, Annabeth. Do you know what that means?

You have to pull through, business and family-wise, too. I'm worried about you just I'm worried about the company. I've got a lucrative job offer from a rival and I'm naturally not going to take it, but I will if I have to – money is going down, as are the stocks and shares. Profits are dropping, and I definitely don't need another broken bombshell running around in the office or the family tree. And keep personal matters personal, Annabeth. Don't bring them in the office – and you need Percy and you know that. He basically keeps everything running, and although he may seem disposable, you need him to get all the mundane, pedestrian jobs done so you can string your high-maintenance life together. You need to stop pretending the world is fine and all. Strong, yes, but not capable of running the world. You can't pretend to hold the world by yourself – you're not as low-down as you think you are. Pull your life together before you meddle in ours – and don't get your pride between you and efficiency. What's more important – keeping dignity or the health of your clients, which Percy handles?

Money doesn't grow on trees."

Annabeth only let a cutting response leave her pursed lips.

"It does, actually. You know, paper?"

He just shook his head.

"Priorities come first.

And to quote Thalia: 'Oh, and it's not Pride and Prejudice, for the record; if you're planning on an impromptu elopement at the end of this whole shebang you can' – "

"Kiss my ass." One Thalia Grace enters the room with initial silence and much aplomb.

"Thals!"

"Heya, darlin'," she drawled, slightly amused at the surprise in Annabeth's normally on/off, either/or angry/bored voice.

"Wait- you read Pride and Prejudice?" Oh, there was a third option. The I-spew-facts-and-IDGAF-what-you-think-about-it voice.

"Sparknotes is kinda useful, hon. As is the title. _Pride_ and _Prejudice._"

Malcolm leaves the room as promptly and purposefully as Thalia entered.

"Remember what I said. Priorities come first."

_**A/N: **_I am really bad at writing fluff. Again, thanks for reading and I'd appreciate a follow or two... Mind you, the first couple of chappies will delve into stray tangents without any real tying-together but every door that's been opened will have closure, I promise. Might take a while though. Any suggestions? Are there any points you're confused on, so I can clarify it in a later chapter? This is all rather new to me so I could do with a few pointers... :)

**Basically, I've updated every 2 days and will do so until Christmas Day/25th (chapter 5) where I will begin updating every week, so chapter 6 will hopefully be up on January 1st, 2014. Wednesday is also when school finishes earlier so that should hopefully work in my favour.**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Monster

_**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus characters all are owned by the one Rick Riordan. Plot outline based on the French film Des Vrais Mensonges. The **__**chapter name belongs to the respective artist(s), in this case Eminem ft Rihanna.**_

___**Thanks to:** _Sora Loves Rain, Mr Invincible, Thanatos Grim, alyaJackson

Percy, a handyman, sends an anonymous love letter to his boss Annabeth. After initially throwing it away, she forwards it to her separated aunt to cheer her up. Mistakes, misunderstandings and marriage (or absence of). Rated T for topics discussed and swearing. Based off French film Des Vrais Mensonges. AU.

**Chapter 3 – The Monster**

_Annabeth_

Let us begin the horribly structured entry to this tacky and rather vomit-inducing diary of 2014 that Percy bought me for Christmas. A festival that has degenerated into a marketing scheme that people actually buy into.

But every book needs a beginning, so here is mine.

Who am I?

My name is Annabeth, because the pressure to be a Cute, Perfect, Doll-like Annie of a daughter was too much.

**[That's not who you are, that's your name. And an Annabeth is only who you perceive it to be.]**

I'm twenty-two.

**[That's your age.]**

I live in San Francisco, California.

**[Stop, already.]**

I really don't know who I am, but I'd like to say it's a culmination of many factors around me.

I have two brothers. I'd love like to get closer to them but I really can't be bothered. It makes me sound trashy but I am, really. My mother's a kind that takes control and buys everything – smart and a woman of today,

**[what does that mean]**

she always is practical and concerned for me, although she's never there. I'm not, either.

My dad has a real hard time speaking anything of real worth, and is successful in the world of business where money does the talking.

I can't appreciate anything. I'm the kind of person who spends hours wasting away her life in search of happiness, although she knows that it will always be the pursuit and if you don't know what it is, you can't be happy. I used to read all the time, and had at least 500 books on my primary school library record, yet I'm now so scared of ruining the memories that I had and not living up to the expectations – to the point where I cry every time I think of reading.

It's like that with swimming as well. I was fast, I had technique, I was progressing; but the stress and trauma from swimming eventually led me into a web of cornering out and crying and quitting.

I also, although very concerned about body image,

**[such a hypocrite, saying that media is just blinding people and forget about them]**

binge eat. I clam up all the time and lash out at people in fear of not being in control. I tie my hair so tight each day, once even using 10 hairties,

**[traction alopecia inducing]**

because I want to control the little things. So superstitious, so worried, so much like living on lava.

I feel like I'm stepping on glass every day to do anything. I'm really scared of letting the company go because I'm not happy with it yet, but I want to be.

**[The essay on the Pursuit of Happiness won't appear now.]**

Time passes so fast but I can't appreciate it, followed by massive regret.

I often do things just because I want to come out on top. I think I'm controlling things whereas they're controlling me.

Breakdowns are very common, as are panic attacks.

I usually go through periods where I freak out and start crying violently where I overthink so much I'm convinced the world is a grand plan to kill me and it's like the Truman Show

**[or whatever it was called]**

all over again. I realise I'm just a pawn in the chess game of life and my fantasies and then go back to numbingly searching through Tumblr and Pinterest and Twitter and raking through illegal TV show sites and hours and hours of Youtube. Because ultimately I'm lazy and I'm too lazy to control that.

It's my reprieve.

But then I force myself to get the groceries and do the bills on top of everything to prove to myself and the world I'm superior.

I know I like one thing.

I like walking really slowly on a cold morning in London or Munich or Geneva during a bright spring day. Just wandering with nowhere to go. No pressure, nowhere to return to, nowhere to stop at.

**[But maybe you just thought you liked it because you hadn't liked anything in a long time.]**

I don't even feel bad about leaving anything because I don't even know what I like.

My sarcastic, slightly funny and loud personality has been clammed up deep inside post high-school. Post-Luke.

The naivety I had; the inability to handle money nor time, has turned me from a reckless and carefree girl who returns home to a pile of regrets, only to succumb to the other side of herself and repeat it the next day; into an over-controlling freak. I tried to control my flaws and it turned me into – well, this.

I'm a confident, arrogant girl with wit and a mean skeleton. Tearing people down is what I do.

**[You are one of said 'people'.]**

Exactly.

**[You don't know.]**

I don't know.

I don't know why we insist on drinking milk from another animal or we classify people as people and animals as animals and why people say sorry for things that have nothing to do with them which only makes the person receiving the sorry guilty and then –

**[Stop. You don't know.]**

_Omniscience_

Annabeth didn't frown, albeit her angry words.

"One moremistake and you're out. How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to shine _those _shoes _and not_ to hang _that_ coat up and – OHGODSAREYOUTHROWINGTHOSEAWAYDON'TYOUDARE."

She huffed. On the outside, she seemed rather peeved – nothing special. But a calm(er) outside always meant she was just investing all of her energy in her tumultuous mind wars. She had been dealing with weeks of bad luck, karma, what-you-have-it, and snowball effects were not good. She had an incapable assistant who not only accidentally threw 4 crates of important blueprints out the window (directly into the dumpster, I tell you) because a woman walking below them near the dumpster was 'suspicious'.

She had her privileges revoked due to financial problems, was being humiliated and degraded.

Key speeches, strings of carefully-woven phrases had been flushed down the toilet (not her fault). Gone.

Not to mention jerks running into her, spilling her coffee down her shirt and getting the wrong size dress she was require to wear for today's presentation.

Did she forget all her nail polishes spilling on the asphalt driveway, staining her handbag? No? Good.

And that one of her best friends got dumped via Facebook (but their conversation was more over the spelling/grammar mistakes than over his doucheiness).

"Blue skies in, grey skies out," she murmured.

Percy looked at her quizzically and she merely breathed in and out again, with a knowing smile.

"Do you _ever_ listen to what I tell you to do?"

He gave her a lopsided smile.

"If they tell me to walk in a straight line, I wear crooked shoes."

"And how would _that_ work, exactly? And anyhow, that'd only inconvenience you. There _is _a reason that they tell you that, you know. And that they are _they."_

"You lost me… just about there."

But they both knew Percy was doing that to rile her and would only take a bullet for her and stuff like that. Like, no biggie.

"So, Perseus Jackson. You were a pigtail puller. Or a pigtail pinner. Wait, does anyone still use pins anymore?"

"Huh?"

"Were you one of those guys who would sit behind girls in kindergarten and First Grade and pull on their hair to bug them?"

She left out the part _'cause they had a crush on them?_'.

"Uh. YeahIguess."

The conversation decided to finish itself there, so there was nothing either of them could do about it. However, lucky enough for them, a new one waltzed into the room – in form of more instructions (who would guess).

"So, Percy. The lapels should all be pressed, and I need the vases put on the coffee tables, and – just wake up already, okay? Were you even listening? I'll repeat: the vases need to be put on… what? Tell me."

"Uh…"

"On what?"

"On top of the world?"

"Dear God, I weep for our generation."

_Percy_

First thing I notice is that I'm being kicked out.

Second thing is the rather large piece of card tied around my neck that states in neat print 'I am an incompetent assistant, especially as I fell asleep long enough for this to be written and put around my neck'.

Oh, the irony. And oh, I fell asleep.

As I get up, a rather uncomfortable piece of paper slips from behind the sign that reads:

_You're fired._

_Omniscience _

"If you want to tell me I'm fired, tell it to my face. Not by a piece of paper that was slipped surreptiously-"

"Surreptitiously." It was a lot quieter than it would normally have been said, though.

"By a sign that clearly showed that you have no qalms-"

"Qualms."

Even quieter. And even colder.

"About embarrassing me. But you can't tell me I'm fired to my face. What-"

"You are no longer an employee at this company, Mr Jackson. I think you have understood that perfectly clearly. Therefore, you have no right to be in my office without a permitted appointment."

And to fulfil that cliché movie scene of old Hollywood-

"Good day, Mr Jackson."

"I-"

"_Good day._"

This time there was no hiding the fact that she was scared.

_**A/N: **_The diary entry was originally an essay on myself, which had to be and was judiciously edited to fit the situation. Any couples you want me to write about? Where do you think this should go? I'm leaving to Germany today, but hopefully I can still post. What do you guys want for Christmas?


	4. Chapter 4 - Miss Movin' On

_**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus characters all are owned by the one Rick Riordan. Plot outline based on the French film Des Vrais Mensonges. The **__**chapter name belongs to the respective artist(s), in this case Fifth Harmony.**_

___**Thanks to:** _Sora Loves Rain, Mr Invincible, Thanatos Grim, alyaJackson, Creamoe, Oruno

Percy, a handyman, sends an anonymous love letter to his boss Annabeth. After initially throwing it away, she forwards it to her separated aunt to cheer her up. Mistakes, misunderstandings and marriage (or absence of). Rated T for topics discussed and swearing. Based off French film Des Vrais Mensonges. AU.

**Chapter 4 – Miss Movin' On**

_Annabeth_

I wasn't scared.

I wasn't scared of a man who could destroy me. Definitely not.

The phrase 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me' has applied to almost every situation in my life, but this one doesn't break the trend.

Normally it's because I usually have the upper hand in wordplay fights but physical violence is just - .

There a fine and already blurred line between abuse and casual fooling around.

But abuse is where there is intent behind it, and fooling around is well, fooling around.

And I wasn't at all scared that Percy could do the same to me. No way.

Okay, maybe.

But right now is not a time of self-reflection, or anything savvy like that. No, I was doing some apologising, and expecting some.

Yes, I had been in an abusive relationship. No, I still couldn't bring myself to trust anyone. I was scared because Percy the Prick was too close to the barbed wires of my heart. Because he was too close that when/if he hurt me, I'd be even more hurt on the inside.

My mantra of the day: conceal, don't feel ~ don't let them in. Oh, and I'm also concerned because he's also very good at fighting.

My new title: Chase, Annabeth ~ co-founder, Leader of Obvious Statement-Making and CEO of the Athena Architectural Company.

Omniscience

There is a time and place for everything, and Annabeth felt it was time to start and end a lot of things. She needed closure, though, on many of them and just before Christmas was, in her mind at least, a great time to start things afresh for the New Year. Armed with ballistae of ugly Christmas sweaters, she rapped twice on the door of Luke and Thalia's apartment badass cave.

Desperation was something Annabeth hated. It was a weakness. It meant you needed trust and had to depend on somebody. None of which she was ready to do.

But she was ready to kick some ass. So desperate or not, she needed to ask Thalia for kickass lessons, starting from number 1: self-defence.

Nope, it had nothing to do with a certain green-eyed man.

After a bit too much conversation, food (or junk that was almost non-passable as food) and alcohol she was beat. They'd decided to rearrange sleeping arrangements ('no way in all of the 50 states will I let you out like this back to your flat, you deranged psycho').

"Careful who you're calling a deranged psycho," was her only response.

Thalia and Annabeth had stripped the bed of its sheets, washed them and put new ones on. Also included in the renovation project was the replacement of the duvet cover, pillowslips, installation of the mattress topper she had delivered 2 years before that Luke and Thalia had forgotten about and the freshening of the room, in Annabeth speak.

Basically tidying up, washing everything and cleaning the heck out of everything and everyone to you and me.

Annabeth and Thalia would share a bed, and Luke would retire to his room. They wouldn't lock the doors, but they would use a chair to bar the door from the inside in case they, in their drunken haze, would forget to knock. Oh, and the technical placement of sneakers by the bed in case of an apocalypse.

"If everything is too your liking, Ma'am, I'd like to hit the rather nice-looking mattress topper that you gifted us because today, well, has been long."

Indeed it has.

Not only had she severed all romantic notions with him in several quick speeches, she had reaffirmed their friendship status with a quickness that they both took comfort in, resuming their assumed Platonism that had been going on for most of their lives.

"Now, spill on Thalia."

Let me reassure you that Annabeth, next to Thalia, was the last person to act girly. As was Luke. But a late night goss sesh wasn't below them as they crawled out of their beds with popcorn and cocoa.

"I think she's seeing someone," said with considerable irritability. This was theonly response she received.

"Get off your high horse, Mr 18th-Century Englishman and tell me about this rival of yours."

"Nice of you to assume we're together."

"Hon," she said, her voice coated in more maple syrup than their pancakes combined, "what's he like? She's probably not thought about you that way… especially as you've been… with… so many of her friends she's probably assuming that you haven't thought about her like that either."

"Don'tlikeher."

"Mhmm… Don't like her my ass. Anyways, what's he like?"

"Exactly like her. Both like Green Day, although their opinion of Boulevard of Broken Dreams can differ on it being 'the best' or 'the worst, if they had a worst'. Loves wearing black. Slightly scrawny and pathetic." Pause. "Broken on the inside. Orphan, no family. Wimpish."

"And I thought my life was an oxymoron… Clearly I was wrong and need to up the game."

"Shut up, Chase. All's fair in love and war. Your turn."

"You mean, in my case, void and absolutely negligible in love."

"I hear that Thals' hunk of a cousin has been rather close to you recently. Helping you out on personal issues." Cue the winking.

"Percy's related to Thalia?" Cue the confusion, anger and resignation.

"Apparently the resemblance is uncanny."

"Are you snickering?! You idiot!" She lunged at him.

His face comes to a deadpan.

"He tries anything on you and he's dead." Overprotective family syndrome.

"You try meddle in my life and you're dead."

"I have no doubt in your excellent fighting abilities," seeming unperturbed.

"That's the problem."

She knows she shouldn't be telling him this, considering his history, but she can't hold it in any longer. Game plans have long changed since she found out Grace's and Jackson's relationship.

"He's a skilled fighter. Trained in dozens of things I don't know about. Hid it from me." The panic ensnares her throat easily and a thick bubble of phlegm covers her larynx for a prolonged period of time.

Luke doesn't know what to say at this point, because there's nothing that can be hid from Annabeth Chase, the person who knows all.

"Come here, smartass. You need some humble pie and that's what I'm getting you."

This matter-of-factness cleans her up straightaway and she follows him into the car where they pick up a piece of cold, fake pie from the 24/7 store and realises that no longer being in love with someone doesn't mean you ever stop loving them.

Annabeth

The next morning, it's almost too predictable. Nothing like sorting out issues with your besties, but dealing with them brutally with your oldest family/friends/protectors comes a close second.

"I'm almost 99% sure that they gave us bill-sorting before our accounts-checking meeting so we would actually look forward to it. I mean. Seriously. This spells B-O-R-D-O-M."

Classic Thalia.

"It's spelled B-O-R-E-D-O-M."

Classic Annabeth.

"See what it's done to my brain?"

Yes, I thought. I do. And I was having a peaceful monologue in my head before this, but anyhow.

"We need to get ready."

My voice feels like a baby bird spreading its wet wings for the first time.

"Operation Wake Me Up, commences…now!"

It was an important matter, getting ready for Boredom & Hell All In One Meeting. I picked Thalia to join me, 'cause I'm evil like that.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

"Hey Thalia," with a vulnerability that makes her head swoop in one swift motion, "can you give me some lessons?"

"Depends," she said, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Fighting. Self-defence. Retaliation. Revenge."

"Listen, Annie. Is this about Percy?"

"Of course it's about him."

"For a person who supposedly hates him, a lot of your life is spent fixating over him."

I scowl at her. Humph. Whose side is she on, anyways?

Then she dropped the bomb.

"You should apologise. Scratch that, you need to. It's keeping you both too occupied and frankly, you've been a condescending bitch."

Ouch. I think I need ice for the burn.

"You've been nothing but inconsiderate. 'Course, Percy was being an idiot but I expect that out of him. You're the most successful woman of our age, and degenerating onto his level is too much. You're turning into the person you hate the most, Annie. And you both need closure."

I'm the smart one. I'm the one who's supposed to be giving lectures. But yeah, she was right. I had been... Well, I need to fix this.

"Tell me, oh wise one, what I need to do."

"He loves water. What's the most unconnected thing to water that is still blatantly obvious so he'd get it? That is date-worthy?"

"Ice skating?"

"Yes ma'am. The 8th wonder of the world, Ms Chase, has regained consciousness from her momentary bitch-lapse."

"Thalia, don't you think it's a bit... couple-y? I don't want to give him the wrong idea..."

"Of course your ice skating date is couple-y. That's the point. And you won't give him the wrong idea, because you _hate_ him, remember?"

Cue Thalia's wiggling eyebrows.

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay, I'm in Austria right now (I travel a lot) so it's a little hard to post. Happy holidays :) **_

_**I've received a few reviews on how my FF is confusing - is it the writing or the plot, or both? Thanks for the reviews and please continue to do so in the future -**_

_**Love, Balletomane0606 the Review-Starved Whiner**_


	5. Chapter 5 - Empire State of Mind

_**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus characters all are owned by the one Rick Riordan. Plot outline based on the French film Des Vrais Mensonges. The **__**chapter name belongs to the respective artist(s), in this case Jay-Z ft. Alicia Keys.**_

___**Thanks to:** _Sora Loves Rain, Mr Invincible, Thanatos Grim, alyaJackson, Creamoe, Oruno, softballchick1290

Percy, a handyman, sends an anonymous love letter to his boss Annabeth. After initially throwing it away, she forwards it to her separated aunt to cheer her up. Mistakes, misunderstandings and marriage (or absence of). Rated T for topics discussed and swearing. Based off French film Des Vrais Mensonges. AU.

**Chapter 5 – Empire State of Mind**

_Percy_

Being fired. Dishonourably discharged. Being let down. Being broken up with. Being expelled.

We all know that life hates me.

There is a typography poster on Annabeth's wall in the office (surprise there) framed within curls of gold (like her hair). It's from her friend Reyna, an equally stubborn-minded leader who heads a whole company at the age of 23.

That lady sure knows how to climb the ranks. It's said she's singlehandedly figured out a way to keep stocks and shares blah from crashing. Brilliant, as I will one day have to start caring.

And I think today might be the day.

The poster says something I very much agree with.

'If you don't try your best, you won't get what you want. If you do try your best and don't get what you want, it was meant to be.'

I pile up a ton of junk I've accumulated from my life as a misfit – the usual. A mug there, a beanie here. My handyman cupboard I was allocated was now empty.

Well, empty to the untrained eye. I wasn't the only one with tricks up my sleeves.

Huh, but everyone else at this place does so they'll probably send me back armed with cans of blah. Eh.

I looked at the paper yet again, the one that said that I was fired, but I didn't feel the usual anger boil in me.

All I felt was loss.

And then I put it on the shelf, face down, before seeing two very small sentences on the other side.

Don't give up - someone, somewhere wants to be you or with you. So don't disappoint.

I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

I head home before realising where my life was at this point. I had nowhere to go to, at least now not permanently. Rent, electricity, water, internet…

I text my mom. I think there should be an option on predictive text for 'imunemployedagain'.

I find the fridge, numb, and get a can of beer. And another one. And perhaps a whole pack. Nobody will know.

It's now one past midnight and I get up, drowsy.

I was late for the meet-up.

_Annabeth_

I'm on a plane.

Boredom expresses itself in so many ways. You can tell in the tapping of the fingers, the juggling legs and the rocking back and forth - at least in the little boy in front of me.

But you also can tell in the glazed eyes of the passenger who was in the Occupy Seat Next to You Mission as take-off dawdles its long and weary way down the OMFG Hurry Up list of annoying things. And you don't know whether to strike up friendly conversation because, you're bored too but who knows, they might be revelling in this moment of reflection.

Note that this is highly unlikely and if they did, the whole of humanity would save up this moment of 'Oops, awks' for great self-improvement.

It takes only the Bold and Courageous, and usually Slightly Smelling of B.O. to start up the chat. Or the overly-clumsy ones that just can't help it and revert back to Shy and Insecure or the ones that simply need to try that thing. You know, where you talk discuss irritate confess to a stranger about life's woes while you realise that as soon as you do that, you will meet them again.

Life is cruel necessary.

As is seeing your friends, which was why I was heading to New York with Jay-Z blaring in my Beats.

_Percy_

"So, Silena, if I whine about her being a little, well, cold to me as of late then she tells me that I'm being annoying through my constant commenting, is it right for me to think her a bitch? I just comment 'cause I don't know anything (she constantly tries to remind me that anyways). Then I try to ignore her, to put her into perspective and get the upper hand but then she's all nice, God knows why. It's either 1) because she's trying to make me feel bad for thinking she was a bitch or 2) noticed I was ignoring her-"

"Um first of all, you're spending way to much like, time with her because not only are you turning into a girl (and a bitchy, overanalysing one at that), you're going all smart aleck and speaking in looooooong words which you never even knew until you met her. And you know I'm specialised in love, so it there a thing going on or is it just me-"

"Just you. And I came to you for your insight into stereotypical jealous-bitch knowledge, not on love. Okay, maybe sorta."

"So she's jealous. Of what, who and why?"

"You're really picking up on the unimportant things, aren't you."

"Yeah. So, about this jealous bitch thing…But I think it's the latter 'cause Annabethwouldn't have hired you if she didn't like you."

"Malcolm hired me."

"Still. She has a way of knowing things."

"But not showing them, evidently."

_Omniscience_

"That was awkward. Like, Spandex in rain awkward."

"Like, white Spandex in rain awkward."

"Like, white Spandex shorts in rain awkward."

Annabeth laughed with her friends and remembered to unearth all the Good Memories filed and duct-taped to the back of her mind. After all, silence was golden and duct tape was silver, right?

It hadn't escaped her that she was happily chatting to Thals, Silly, Katie-Cat, Clary, LuLu,Hazie, Rachie-darlin' and RA-RA like they had never had sprouted wings and left the securities of the childhood and camp and boys-have-cooties nest. But in some ways she didn't regret it, and wondered whether she would have been as strong and well, Annabethwithout them and their mistakes. Such as skinny-dipping in broad daylight and stealing of each other's swimwear. Immature, but fun.

Maybe she should rephrase. She was, with a confuzzled brain, making grunts of 'yes-I'm-listening' around several rather bonding girls – Thalia, Silena, Katie, Clarisse, Piper, Hazel, Rachel and Reyna respectively. Yes, those nicknames came out their mouths after too much cheap beer on one of their Weep and Wallow in our own Tears night – happening on a bad day or a GNI.

Girls' Night In, by the bye, not Gross National Income.

Although Annabeth was interested in both, and had to deal with them both – right now.

"GNI is when you encompass the profit from overseas branches, yes…" she teased.

"Come on, Annie-poo!"

"Immature. I mean, come on…"

"I dared to stoop that low, yes I did. Now there's no going back… so, choice of movie?""Mean Girls is a lifestyle. As is Tangled."

"True, true, very true. But have you considered the rest of the goodies… Frozen's out, some Christmastime specials… Love Actually, Home Alone, perhaps a childhood favourite."  
"Bethy over here should choose. She was the one who called up the Council more important than the Council of Nicea, after all."

"Council of Very Important Girl Problems, at your service!" they joked.

It really didn't matter who was talking as they had blended into a blur that no one could decipher. They decided on Pillow Pets, blankets, too many fluffy cushions, chocolate and some celebratory champagne on a 'bitchy, bitchy reunion'.

"To the Council more important than the Council of Nicea!" they mocked, and held a toast.

_Annabeth_

I woke up with a pretty impressive desire to sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

Then I remembered I was in a cheap motel (to make up for that plane ticket I oh-so-spontaneously had purchased. It was perhaps a couple of weeks after the New Year's festivities had died down, so I expected a peaceful getaway.

Yup, I had tried, but Piper's kaleidoscope eyes had earned her the nickname LuLu and were in my face rather unappealingly (not like she was ugly or anything, it's just that the communal sharing of my morning breath was a bit cringe-worthy). Like after Lucy the Beatles song.

"It took you so long to wake I'd thought I'd have to said 'bonsoir' instead of 'bonjour'."

Nothing like listen to witty French as you wake up.

Time to get my ass outta bed and think about the great towering building.  
It was proved that there is a natural response to throw yourself off a great building when on top as it's the 'easiest' way out of the situation. Yes, easy; yes, cowardly. So I was facing my mind that now was inclined to the Empire State of doing things and decided to tell all.

Or almost all.

_Percy_

Beckendorf hesitated and grounded himself in the dusty soil. He seemed like he was about to clap him on the back and leave, yet there was something in his eyes that seemed almostafraid.

"Don't give up – 'cause someone, somewhere, wants to be you. Don't disappoint."

He left without looking back.

Now, where the hell did I hear that before?

**A/N: Happy Boxing Day! Sorry for this being a day late. For whoever that's reading this, thanks for sticking it through. Every follow, favourite and review means a lot. There will be Percabeth, I promise, but before they can move on to other people they need to be able to move on past themselves. Reviews/suggestions? I tried to sub in for the lack of fluff with more dialogue. Where should I go onto next? I tried to show Percy's less uptight (if you can call it that) personality.**


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